


A Conversation on Immortality

by LastHope



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fuckin' Fluffy Mondays, M/M, Other Characters Are Mentioned, Post City of Heavenly Fire, Public Displays of Affection, slight - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-30
Updated: 2014-09-30
Packaged: 2018-02-19 07:43:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,827
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2380355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LastHope/pseuds/LastHope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aline comes to a realization, and seeks advice from the only person she can think of who knows what to do. Post-CoHF</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Conversation on Immortality

“Who’s the girl in the relationship?”

“Who’s the _guy_ in the relationship?” They burst into laughter in their corner of the small café.  It’s mid-morning, and there are not many people in the shop.  “But seriously, you do _not_ know _anything_ until you have guys asking if they can watch.”

“Do girls count?” Her companion taps his spoon thoughtfully against the side of his coffee cup.  He has just added _another_ packet of sugar to his coffee, making it (at least) eight that he has put in his cup.  Though, it is debatable, because she had to leave for a moment to use the restroom, and seeing as the waitress had come by in that time to take away empty dishes, sweeping away his prior sugar packets, he possibly, and most definitely, had put more in his drink while she was gone.  “Or my sister?  She asked once, and I’m still not sure whether she was joking or not.”

“I’m surprised _Jace_ didn’t ask.” She snorts, taking a sip of her tea.  Frowning at the taste, she pours more milk into it.

“Oh, he did,” He takes a mouthful of his coffee, frowning as well, and dumps three more packets of sugar into it.  “I just didn’t count him because I could tell that he was joking.  Do girls count or are you just going to say your amount of suffering is higher because you think guys are creepier?”  She gives a suffering sigh that’s more teasing than anything.

“I suppose so,” She acquiesces, drumming her fingers on the table, eyeing the last chocolate croissant on the plate in the center of the table.  She’s eaten three already, and she _probably_ shouldn’t eat anymore, but chocolate has always been a siren’s song to her.  Caving, she swipes it onto her plate, continuing, “But I still suffer more than you.  I _highly_ doubt you’ve been invited into threesomes every time someone finds out your sexuality.”  She pauses, then adds, “And guys _are_ creepy.  No offense.”

“What if _I_ wanted that?” He scowls at her, and she laughs.

“I seem to recall someone having a severe allergic reaction to chocolate, _but_ if that someone wants to tempt death today,” She waves it in front of him laughing. “Be my guest.”  He sighs, waves his hand at the croissant, and she triumphantly takes a bite out of it.

“I suppose you do win,” He concedes, staring at his coffee as if he is having an internal debate on whether or not he needs to add more sugar to it.  There is probably enough sugar in it already to allow the spoon to stand up in it, but it is not her drink, so she refrains from saying anything.  “But _only_ because of the threesome thing.  The guys one doesn’t count just because you’re perpetually in the ‘boys have cooties’ phase.”  She rolls her eyes.

“ _Please_ ,” She sets the croissant on her plate, brushing crumbs off of her hands onto it as well.  “If _I’m_ perpetually in the ‘boys have cooties’ phase, then _you’re_ perpetually in the ‘girls have cooties’ phase too.  The cookie crumbles both ways.”

“Regrettably,” He says, drinking from his cup.  She counts the seconds, only getting up to three before he is putting another packet of sugar in it.  It’s a wonder he doesn’t have any cavities.

There’s a companionable silence that passes, before she is compelled to break it.

“Have you heard anything new about,” She stops, because it is painful to think about the family that is waiting for her arrival, and she does have to work on hiding that before she gets there, and changes her wording. “-from LA?”

Thankfully, he doesn’t say anything about it, just calmly taps his spoon on the edge of his cup before resting it on his saucer.  His hands come to rest on the table.

“Only that they’re really excited about you coming to visit, Aline,” He says, and Aline credits herself that she does not wince.  He’s looking at her like she’s an enigma, and Aline wishes for him not to do that.  It makes her feel very vulnerable, as if she is on display, even if it is just the two of them.  Idly, Aline wonders if this is how he felt that night, in the Accords Hall, when he came out.  “They’re really disappointed that Helen can’t come too, but, for the most part, they understand why.”

Reflexively, Aline clenches her hands in her skirt.

“They shouldn’t have to understand why,” Aline mutters under her breath.  “She shouldn’t be banned from seeing them at all, isolated away from them like _she_ was the one who did something wrong.”  She doesn’t realize she is getting progressively louder until he settles a hand on her shoulder.  Aline bites her tongue, cutting the words off, and she’s scrutinized by blue eyes.

“They’re lobbying for her to be allowed to come home,” He removes his hand from her shoulder, speaking gently.  “Emma and Julian, both of them want Helen to be at their _parabatai_ ceremony.  I was told that they’re refusing to settle on a date until the Clave allows Helen to be at it.  From what I understand, Emma is instigating most of it, but Julian isn’t doing anything to stop her.” Despite herself, Aline laughs.

“That does sound like Emma,” She chuckles into her tea.  “But Helen would be _mortified_ if she heard.  She would insist that they not do that simply for her.”

“Oh, that’s right,” He looks sheepishly at her from across the table.  “Act surprised when they tell you?  I, uh, wasn’t supposed to tell you.  Also, that means you can’t tell Helen either, as long as you’re alright with that.  To be honest, I don’t think I’m supposed to know…” He trails off, and Aline frowns.

“Why wouldn’t you be supposed to know?” Aline asks suspiciously.  “They _told_ you, didn’t they?  That means they would want you to know.”  All while Aline is talking, he is slinking down in his seat.

“Not exactly?” It is more of a question than an answer.  “I, uh, don’t exactly get all my information about them _from_ them, per se.”

“ _Alexander!_ ” Aline is scandalized.  “You are _spying_ on my girlfriend’s _family_?” Alec winces.

“Not exactly?” Again, not an answer.  “I mean, _technically_ , it’s not me who is doing the spying.  Besides, you’re the one who wanted me to find out things on them for you.”

“By _asking_ ,” Aline is trying her hardest not to screech and draw attention to their corner of the coffee shop, and she feels like she is doing a relatively okay job.  “Not by _spying_ on them!”

“Again, technically it’s not me who is doing the spying,” Alec defends, holding his hands up.  “Besides, I _do_ ask them some things!”

“Then _who_ , per se,” Aline growls, knuckles tightening in her skirt as she reminds herself that Alec is her _friend_ and it is not socially acceptable to punch one’s friend in the face in _public._   “Is doing the spying?”

“The High Warlock of LA,” Alec answers quickly, “I don’t know if you’ve met him- you probably have if you’ve been out to the LA Institute.  I think his name is Malcolm Fade?” Aline’s ire diminishes.

“Malcom Fade?” Aline asks almost incredulously.  She has met the warlock before, once, when she and Helen had been out in LA.  Malcolm hadn’t seemed the kind capable of spying on someone.  Then again, with how docile Malcolm seems most days, it probably isn’t too hard for him to befriend the kids at the LA Institute.  Still, “He seems a bit…” She waves her hand as she tries to find the right word to describe LA’s High Warlock.

“Unhinged?” Alec supplies.

“Out of it,” Aline settles on.  “How _are_ you getting him to do that for you?”  Aline is met with a small shrug.

“I met him once, back when, you know, everything was happening and he was out in New York,” Alec explains, nervously adding four more packets of sugar to his coffee.  “He seemed a bit like he was pining after Catarina, so I,” Alec shrugs, waving his hands, red coating his cheeks in an embarrassed manner.

“So you _what_?” Aline asks suspiciously, mind jumping to conclusions for her.

“I told him if he kept me updated with what was going on with the Blackthorns and Emma over in the LA Institute,” Alec answers, not meeting Aline’s eyes.  “I would keep him updated with what was happening with Catarina over here in New York.”

“ _Alec!_ ” Aline scolds him.

“What?” He asks in an offended tone.  “You wanted to know what was occurring in LA that the kids might not be telling your or Helen, and I did what you asked!  I am not to blame here.  You _very_ clearly said you didn’t care how I did it, so long as I did it!”

Mundanes frown upon murder, Aline reminds herself, and Alec is her friend.  No matter how upset one is with their friend, they are not allowed to murder them in public.  Regardless of how much they make one want to throttle them.

“I didn’t mean _spy_ on them!” Aline hisses through clenched teeth.  “Honestly Alec, you’re the one who is supposed to have common sense!”  She’s fairly certain if she grips the handle of her cup any harder it will break off, so she makes a conscious effort to attempt to loosen her hold on it.

“Anyways,” Alec diverts the conversation hastily, busying himself with adding yet another packet of sugar into his coffee.  “What is it you wanted to meet me for?  Something tells me that it wasn’t just for the pleasure of catching up and accusing me of spying on your girlfriend’s family.”

Oh, right.  Thanks to their witty banter, Aline has almost managed to forget why she had wanted to speak with Alec, but his words bring the reason back to the forefront of her mind.

She tries to think of how to put her situation into words, and how to justify making Alec come out at nine am on a Saturday morning to meet with her, without telling anyone.  It’s not like Aline doesn’t want anyone to know she was in New York at the moment, but Aline knows the busy-body like nature of his family.  If Alec had mentioned to any of his family that he was coming to meet Aline this morning, she knows without a doubt that his sister or _someone_ would have wound up tagging along, and that would have detracted from what Aline wanted to talk about.  Or, at least, it would have wound up making things severely awkward for everyone else involved.

Not that she _isn’t_ certain that this particular conversation topic won’t be severely awkward for Alec anyways.  It’s sort of like playing Russian roulette, but without the guns.

“Aline?” A light pressure touches her hand, and she jumps, yanking them right off the table.  Alec is staring at her with what looks to be a touch of worry in his eyes.  Aline bites back a curse and wipes the palms of her hands on her skirt, smoothing it, and rests them on the edge of the table, closer to her.  She’s about to ask what Alec wanted when she remembers his original question, which she has yet to answer.

“Is everything all r-”

“Do you remember Meliorn?” Aline abruptly cuts Alec off, before he can finish his question.  She doesn’t know the answer, doesn’t _want_ to answer, and she has to get this off her chest.  Unnecessarily, Aline clarifies, “The half-fairy.”

But Alec is already scowling, eyes darkening, and Aline knows he remembers, and starts to think, not for the first time, that maybe, just maybe, this was a bad idea.  She had heard that he had died, Meliorn, when Alec and everyone were entering Edom to battle Sebastian and rescue the Council members, but nobody actually said _how_ he had died.  Looking at Alec, Aline wonders if one of them had killed Meliorn.  Wonders if _Alec_ killed Meliorn.

Aline wouldn’t blame him if he did.  If she had been in his situation… she would have done the same thing, honestly, and probably killed the Seelie Queen as well.  Because most of Helen’s situation was the Seelie Queen’s fault.

“Yes,” Alec answers, the fingers of one hand drumming a staccato beat against the table top, the ones of the other curling around his jaw, elbow leaning on the table.  “What does he have to do with anything?”

Aline swallows, finds her mouth incredibly dry, and takes a big gulp of her tea.  Grimacing, she puts it back down because it’s cold, and there still isn’t enough milk in it, but she doesn’t bother adding any seeing as it’s cold.

“He,” She hesitates, “He was immortal, right?  Despite being half-human?”

“From what I understand, yes,” Alec nods, frowning.  “But I still don’t quite understand-” He stops suddenly, tone swooping downwards.

“It’s just,” Aline interjects when Alec stops.  “I mean, it’s really stupid, but someone brought it up back on Wrangel Island, and it just hit me.” She takes a deep breath, and isn’t surprised to find it shuddering in her chest.  Aline doesn’t look at Alec.  She’s afraid that if she does, she’ll come apart.

“It was the same stuff we heard pretty much every day since we went there,” Aline flicks the handle of her cup, watching it spin on the saucer.  She’s dancing around the topic, a graceful ballet.  Aline was always good at ballet, and it is useful for battling demons and Downworlders occasionally, but Helen does the mundane hip-hop and street dancing, and is _entrancing_ as she does it.  Aline had never seen anything like it before, the first time she watched Helen dance. “The stuff about our sexuality, well, you probably understand, and we’d heard it all before, so it didn’t really bother us too much.  But then, one day-”

Alec’s hand on her shoulder jerks Aline to a stop, and she yanks her head up at a breakneck speed.  He has a sad sort of smile on his face, and, blinking, Aline realizes there are tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

“You don’t have to tell me this if you don’t want to,” Alec tells her as she scrubs the back of her hand furiously across her cheeks, but she shakes her head and continues.

“One day,” She reiterates, taking a deep breath, “Someone, this guy- ha, funny, it’s always a _guy_ , isn’t it? -looks at us, at _Helen,_ and asks why they, why the Clave, was letting some, some _half-breed_ study the wards when it was going to be here, be _there_ , long after everyone was dead and people forgot why Helen was banished to Wrangel Island in the first place.”  She stares at Alec, straight in the eyes.  He falters, and Aline watches as his mouth forms an ‘o’ before recovering.  He bites his lip, probably trying to figure out what to say to her, but Aline continues before he can, tone broken.

“Is this how you felt?” Aline asks quietly, wishing her shoulders would stop trembling. “With Magnus, I mean.”

“I’m not sure what you’re asking me,” Alec responds haltingly.  He laces his fingers together, and Aline can feel the table shifting from where his foot is tapping anxiously on the table leg.  Aline feels bad, because she realizes this conversation topic is most likely dredging up less than happy memories for Alec.

“I mean,” Aline taps her fingers nervously against the table.  She struggles for the right words, and when they fail to come to her, she groans and buries her face in her free hand.  “Helen’s half _fairy_.”

Aline says it like it can convey all the words she is unable to find, and, surprisingly, it looks as if Alec seems to understand.

“Shadowhunter blood breeds true,” He says, and Aline is overwhelmed by the urge to slap him.  _Of course_ she knows that, why is he reciting the Codex at her?  That does absolutely nothing to help her situation. 

“I know _that_ , that’s not the-” Alec raises a hand calmly, and Aline trails off; Alec continues speaking as if he had never been interrupted.

“There’s only one other known person- well, person I know, anyway,” Alec amends as he speaks, “Who is,” He waves his hand to clarify, the subject still having yet to be breached. “Tessa Gray- she’s a warlock -she’s part Shadowhunter.”

“That’s impossible!” Aline has never heard of a warlock with Shadowhunter blood before.  The Codex, and all other references on the subject, says that it is impossible; the demon blood that comes about from the resulting warlock child mixes with the angel blood in the Nephilim mother, and they burn each other out, trying to get rid of the other.  All known pregnancies that resulted from demonic procreation have ended with the stillbirth, or premature death, of the child.

But apparently, Aline corrects herself, not _all_ pregnancies.

“Not quite,” Alec circles his index finger around the rim of his cup, abandoning his drink as well.  Whether it’s because it’s cold, or he still cannot put enough sugar into his coffee to satisfy him, Aline does not know.  “I won’t bore you with all the details but, long story short, Tessa’s mother hadn’t known she was a Shadowhunter- had angel blood -and because of circumstances,” He waves his free hand, “She had Tessa.  She was never marked, and neither was Tessa.”

Aline understands what Alec is trying to get across, even though it’s not necessarily true.

“But _she’s_ a _warlock_ ,” Aline remarks glumly, more sullenly than her intention.  “And _Helen_ is part _fairy_.”  Alec takes a deep breath, releasing it long and slow.  Aline feels horribly guilty for putting him through all this.

“Tell me,” Alec says in a flat, even, calm, tone, but not in an unkind manner, “What exactly is it you wanted to talk to me about today?”

Because they- Aline, really -still have not actually brought up the subject.  They’ve been dancing gracefully around the subject, Alec very patiently, but they haven’t actually said it.  And, Aline tells herself, it’s worse for Alec.  Alec already _knows_ , and he knows that there is nothing he can do about it.  (Not that he hasn’t messed up on it already, and Aline remembers how that turned out; Alec didn’t speak to her- to _anybody_ -for three days straight, and when he did he had been decidedly not himself, but not answering anything.  Aline had resorted to texting Isabelle in a last ditch effort for information, and had not only been steadily updated on the entire situation by Alec’s sister, but also had had to resist the urge to fly out to New York herself, with or without Helen, and beat Alec up over the whole situation.)

“I’m,” She hesitates, and swallows thickly.  “I’m afraid Helen will be immortal like, like Meliorn was, or how Mark is now, and I’ll, I’ll,” _have to leave her behind._   She doesn’t say it, and Aline is doing her best not to cry, but her shoulders are quivering with how much she wants to.

“It’s okay, Aline,” Alec reaches across the table, and holds her hand.  “It’ll be alright, you’ll see.”  He speaks with the practiced tone of someone who has comforted many a person on different subjects, and the tone of someone who has spent many a night repeating a similar litany to himself.  Which, Aline tells herself, he probably _has_.  Unlike Aline and her own petty worries on whether or not her girlfriend will outlive her, Alec already _knows_ that his boyfriend is going to outlive him.

“Just think of it this way,” He continues, rubbing his thumb gently over the back of her hand.  Aline is taking deep breaths, trying to keep herself from crying.  “Mark isn’t immortal because he _wants_ to be, he had it forced upon him just because of his fairy blood, when he was made to join the Wild Hunt.  And Meliorn… well, Meliorn spent a lot of time in the Seelie Court, so it was only natural for him to become immortal and lose that connection with his human side.  That’s what happens when you spend too much time in the courts of the Fair Folk.  But Helen, Aline, she doesn’t have _any_ of those connections to the Fair Folk.”

“But what if that doesn’t matter?” Aline whispers, feeling a lump crawl up and stick in her throat.  “What if that means _nothing_ when it comes down to everything?”

“Aline,” Alec sighs with exasperation, but when she looks up at him, he has this sort of annoyed fond smile on his face.  “Tell me, _why_ did you choose to go to Wrangel Island to study the wards?”

“I, I _had_ to,” Aline answers, stumbling over her words, surprised by the question and abrupt change of topic.

“Did you _have_ to?” Alec asks.  “Honestly, did you?”

“I don’t understand,” She curls her fingers around Alec’s lacing them together.  “Of _course_ I had to.  I wasn’t just going to let Helen go all by herself!”

“Why not?” Alec presses.

“Because,” Aline says hopelessly, looking for the right words, but all she can find is, “I _love_ her.”

“Then why,” Alec squeezes her hand gently, “Does it matter whether she is immortal or not?”

“I don’t know,” She whines, dropping her head against the table, causing the dishware on it to rattle.  “I just, I mean, it just _hit_ me of that being a, a, _thing_ , and I didn’t know what to do.  Who to talk to.  Whether I _should_ talk to someone.”

“You _should_ talk to someone,” Alec agrees.  “But not just anyone.”  Aline lifts her head off the table to look at him, and Alec has this far-away look in his eyes, and is tapping the side of his cup distractedly.  He appears caught in the past, and Aline thinks he probably is.  Would things have turned out differently for Alec, had he had someone to talk about his problems with?

Probably not, Aline decides, because even if Alec had had someone to talk to about it with (which he had, he had had her, his sister, his _parabatai_ ) he still would not have talked to anyone about it, preferring to simply bottle it up and not tell anyone.  Alec prefers to handle things himself, especially when those things have to do with himself.  Aline, however, does not behave that way.

“You need to talk to _her_ about this,” He continues, eyes drifting back to look at hers.  His tone is still the same calm, gentle, quality it’s been for the entirety of the conversation, but his eyes belie a sharpness not conveyed in his tone. “Helen.  Trust me Aline, if there is one thing I have learned, it is that you _need_ to be honest and upfront about these sorts of problems and doubts.” 

“It’s stupid though,” Aline kicks the table leg.  “And childish, and Helen will just _laugh_ at me.”

“Regardless of how stupid or childish you may think it is,” Alec chides, “You need to _talk_ to her about it.  If you don’t, you’ll just let it fester, and from there…” He drifts off, eyes gaining that glassy sheen to them that signals to Aline that Alec has slipped back onto memory lane once more.  Alec blinks harshly once, twice, shakes his head, and continues. 

“You _have_ to talk to her about it Aline,” He reiterates, voice thick, and guilt creeps back up Aline’s shoulders for making him go through this.  She realizes that this conversation is probably harder on him than it is on her.  “You’ll feel better about it after, I promise.”

At some point, without Aline noticing, Alec has moved his hand back to his own side of the table.

Aline leans across and grabs them in her own once more and asks Alec very seriously,

“Why did you take Magnus back?” Alec blinks at her, taken aback by her question, and reflexively flexes his fingers.  He doesn’t pull away.

“I love him,” Alec finally says after a long moment.  “I mean, of course I do if I was willing to take him back, but Aline,” He pauses, “I was willing to stay in Edom just to be with him.”  Alec looks off to the side, as if he were guilty because of what he admitted.  Aline understands though; it was just like her giving up what might have been her future, just to be with Helen on Wrangel Island.  Alec, though, would have given up his future _and_ his humanity simply to stay with Magnus.

“And killed Meliorn,” Aline guesses, because she’s held the suspicion for a while.  Alec’s eyes snapping back to her only confirms it.

“How did you-?”

“Lucky guess,” Aline admits.  “None of you would say _who_ exactly killed Meliorn when you were entering Edom, but there were only three real candidates as to who did it.  One, when you take into account the manner of _how_ he died.”

Alec fumbles for words, trying to defend himself, but Aline shakes her head, stating instead,

“I sincerely hope Magnus got down on his knees and _groveled_ , when he asked you to take him back.” Aline rakes her eyes across Alec.  “And I hope you didn’t settle for less when he did.”

Alec doesn’t say anything, so Aline decides to draw her own conclusion.  She rolls her eyes, looks to the stucco ceiling of the café and declares,

“Alexander Lightwood, you are too good for him, _honestly_.”

Alec splutters, and Aline cackles at his reaction.  A silence barely has a chance to settle on their shoulders once they quiet before it is broken by a new voice.

“My, my, my,” It drawls, “Don’t you two just look like the poster children for heteronormativity.”  Aline starts to pull away from Alec, but, “Wait, don’t move, I want a picture of this.”

The tone is teasing delight, and Alec rolls his eyes as he pulls his hands away saying in an imploring tone,

“Magnus, _please_.”

Aline looks up to green-gold cat eyes scrutinizing her suspiciously, as if she was being determined as a potential threat, or a challenger wanting to steal Alec and covet him away.  She suppresses the urge to snort at the thought and turns to Alec.

“You _are_ too good for him,” She reiterates, staring Alec dead in the eyes.

“He is,” Magnus agrees brightly, and Alec flushes, not looking at either of them.  Aline looks back to Magnus, but his attention (and rightly so, she decides) is focused on Alec.

“I was worried when I woke up and you weren’t there,” Magnus says, settling his hands on the edge of the table.  His nails are longer than hers, Aline notices offhandedly, and clack against the tabletop.  “Bed empty, no note-”

“Car gone, you could have died, you could have been seen,” Alec mutters under his breath, grinning, snickering into his cup.  Looking at Magnus, he is doing best to frown at Alec for interrupting him, but there is a smile tugging the corners of his mouth up.  Aline feels severely as if she has missed a private joke.  She also feels as if Magnus deliberately worded his sentence intending that reaction from Alec.

“But really,” Magnus says, nonchalantly dipping the tip of his pinky finger into Alec’s cup, pulling a face when he discovers it’s cold.  “I tried texting you- you didn’t answer.” He shakes his hand before twirling his finger over Alec’s cup as Alec digs his cellphone out of the bag at his side.  Steam emits from the cup, and Aline finds herself slightly jealous.

“Oh,” Alec stares at the screen of his phone, flipping it open, then shaking it, as if it would change anything.  “My phone’s dead.”

“That explains a lot,” Magnus grins, taking Alec’s cup, presumably to drink from it.  Aline hopes he likes a little coffee with his sugar, because that is exactly what is in Alec’s cup.  Magnus takes a gulp and pulls a disgusted face at the drink, setting it back down in front of Alec.  “Care for some coffee with that sugar, sugar?”

Alec and Aline roll their eyes, for separate reasons, and Alec takes a drink of his reheated coffee.  Alec’s eye roll, Aline figures, is for Magnus’ quip at the monstrosity Alec is deigning to call a drink.  Aline’s eye roll is because of how sappy the two are, even though she realizes that the same could probably be said about her and Helen.

“There is not _that_ much sugar in it,” Alec defends himself.

“Right,” Aline agrees, “Only about twenty sugar packets, maybe more.” She’s exaggerating a tad, but it’s good natured.

“You, my dear, have a problem with sugar.” Magnus sighs theatrically, sliding into the booth next to Alec.  His hand disappears under the table, and Aline abandons observations.

“Do not,” Alec insists, and a flush comes across his face that Aline does not dwell on.

“Do so,” Magnus rebuts, doing something with his hand that causes Alec to swat his boyfriend on the arm, his flush creeping up his ears and down his neck.

“By the Angel,” Aline drawls, rolling her eyes, “You two are so deep in the honeymoon phase it’s sickening.”

“So we are,” Magnus nods, while Alec groans and hides his face in his hands.  He studies Aline for a moment before asking, “ _Did_ I interrupt something?  I apologize if so.”  The cat-eyes glitter with mischievousness, and a smirk curls on his lips as he says, looking down at Alec, “Feel free to-”

Alec quickly slams both his hands over his boyfriend’s mouth with more force than Aline believes strictly necessary.  Judging by the redness of the tips of his ears, however, Aline guesses that Alec was predicting what exactly Magnus was about to say, and cut him off before his boyfriend could say something either very embarrassing, very dirty, or both.

“It’s alright,” Aline informs Magnus, watching as his hands aim for Alec’s sides, succeeding in getting Alec to remove his hands from his mouth.  The Angel, was this how she and Helen looked to others?

“Are you sure?” Alec asks, trying to keep his attention on Aline while attempting to fend off his boyfriend’s wandering hands at the same time.

“No, it’s fine,” Aline insists, sliding out of the booth, picking up her purse.  Rifling through it, she looks for her wallet to pay for her tea.

“Making the lady pay? My, we need to teach you some manners Alexander,” Magnus tuts, eyes on his phone, and Aline bites her tongue, resisting the urge to comment, pulling out her wallet.  She looks up to see that Alec and Magnus have stood up as well.

“I can pay for myself,” Aline pulls out a ten and leaves it on the table.  Her tea was only about two dollars, the croissants about three or four dollars, five max, so the rest could serve as a tip.  Aline is terrible at math, thus terrible at figuring out appropriate tips, but she reasons that if she is off Alec can just make up the difference.  Or Magnus, if he’s really insisting on the whole cliché ‘man pays for dinner’ thing he’s pulling.

“Sorry about him,” Alec apologizes, yanking on Magnus’s ear in a scolding manner.

“Eh,” Aline waves her hand, and watches as Magnus slides his phone into the pocket of his jeans, where it realistically could not fit.  They are unfathomably tight, so he _has_ to be using magic to get his phone in the pocket, and Aline wonders what Helen would look like wearing those jeans.

Pretty hot, Aline decides- she has always enjoyed wearing tight jeans and high-top converse shoes, and Aline enjoys looking at Helen wearing tight jeans and high-top converse shoes.

She thinks she must have missed something while imagining her girlfriend, Aline reckons, because when she tunes back to reality, Alec is leaning back away from his boyfriend, who has his tongue stuck out in a fashion that makes Aline think Magnus is trying to lick Alec’s face.  Must be a warlock thing.

“Alright, alright,” Aline waves her hand at the males.  “Cut the foreplay and just move it to the alley already, you’re in public.” Alec splutters, nearly losing his balance, while Magnus grins predatorily.

“Well,” His voice takes on a husky tone that is aimed at Alec, waggling his eyebrows.  “Seeing as we have _permission_.”

“Again, sorry about him,” Alec apologizes as his boyfriend wraps his arms around his shoulders from behind him, resting his chin on Alec’s shoulder.

“It’s fine,” Aline swaps her wallet for her phone, checking the time.  “My flight for LA leaves in a little while anyway, I need to get back to the airport.”

“Still,” Alec jumps as Magnus’ mouth finds the part of his neck that isn’t covered by his shirt. “If you want to talk, at any time, just call all right?  Or text, I don’t mind.”

“ _I_ mind,” Magnus says petulantly, momentarily detaching himself, but there’s amusement in his eyes.  Aline rolls her eyes and Alec smacks his boyfriend’s leg.

“Nobody asked you,” They chorus, and share a snicker.

“Now, seriously,” Aline says in all honesty as she drops her phone back into her purse.  “Move it to the alley- or a room if you decide _not_ to be exhibitionists; I’m pretty sure people are trying to eat here.”  Alec flushes and sputters, and his boyfriend grins lazily as his hand wanders up beneath Alec’s shirt.

Recalling their prior topic of conversation, Aline stares, trying to understand, but gives up and says,

“I do _not_ understand why straight people would want to _watch_ this.” She shakes her head, and both males blink, before Alec starts laughing, their prior conversation topic obviously coming back to him.  Magnus looks between the two of them, very obviously confused, hand still halfway up Alec’s chest under his shirt.

“It is a mystery,” Alec agrees, shrugging his shoulder, and Aline leaves the café still giggling, feeling a bit lighter about everything.

(Two weeks later, when Aline is back on Wrangel Island, she finally builds up the courage and talks to Helen about it.  They stay up until three am talking about it, Aline cries, Helen amazingly doesn’t mind, and surprisingly nothing changes.  In the morning Aline feels like a great burden has been lifted off her chest, and better than she has in the past month and a half.  Alec never asks, but the next time they get in touch she mentions it, and he gives her a look as if he is proud of her.  Aline resolves to make sure that the next time a problem comes up, to talk to her girlfriend about it and be upfront with it.  And, well, if that doesn’t work, Alec seems to be a willing ear she can talk to.)

* * *

 


End file.
